on a red warm soil
deep in the woods,
priestess offers her libation,
rites of initiation:
and I address...

o priestess!
toss them in the forte of Ukpaka Oto;
call forth my unsung warrior:
young stem harvested before prime;
nna m ochie e i!
akpokue m gi!
for I am beholden to my ancient's craft.

great Ifekandu!
though you are far away I feel you;
vein of veins that go back to many origins;
though you are far away I call on you,
acolyte to his forebear,
hear my call!

let me meander through the halo of your
greenery -
ikpo achala:
bamboo paths,
to the banks of Idoto,
where you stood, there I stand,
lost in the headwind of your seduction

pass me the palmwine,
gourds lined before us,
let me partake in the ritual of Idoto;
chorusing in kinship chords,
one-legged dance to the gods;
your chi tapping ogene,
mine thumping the drum,
in a pulsating convocation!

let us re-enact the gospel of transfiguration:
one hut for you,
one for Oligolu,
and other for Ezeokigbo;
homage of progenitors
maternal linkages
incarnation reborn.

your pilgrimage ended abruptly,
my minstrel begins in full bloom;
my art,
rising with the sun;
free spirit:
relay ran to the full,
resonate to the present,
ancient musings come alive.

out of the abundance of your lucidity,
let us drink to our full;
whatever comes with this art,
let us eat and pass it on
for we are your fandom,
in the footsteps of your legend.